Dearest Diary
by HeArTsAnDLeMoNs
Summary: Every woman has to be a woman sometimes. Even Riza Hawkeye. But where can she release this side without damaging her hard up, kick ass reputation? Well, where else than her very own diary? Royai.Rated T for some curse words. COMPLETE AT LAST!
1. Personal Onslaught to Roy Mustang

**Chapter 1**

Personal Onslaught to Roy Mustang

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Dear Diary,

Earlier today Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang had questioned me if I knew the whereabouts of the Elric Brothers.

Like hell, no

How does he expect me to slay that shortstuff while I keep _him_ under control?!

Seriously!

And you should see the amount of paperwork he left behind!

What the hell?!

I'm his Lieutenant, not his _bitch_!

He has enough of _those!_

and speaking of bitches, guess WHO ELSE came in today.

Kristina Von Manwhore.

The chick used to be funny and cute when I first met her; that was when she was only screwing Havoc.

But now, she upgraded from smoke to flame.

Only a worthless, brainless, tramp woulf go for the chief's extremely shallow (and not to mention inane) pickup line "Hey there".

I mean "Hey there"?!?!?!?!?!

How shallow is that?!

He might as well say "Nice shoes, can I screw you?"

It probably wouldn't make any difference!

and again, I CAN'T WAIT to see the day wherein he actuall submits his paperwork on time!

I'm surprised that he was ACTUALLY promoted to Lt. Colonel, even with all those airheads he keeps in line.

I'm actually writing this now, while KVM (Kristina Von Manwhore, remember?) is visiting the chief.

She's looking my way.

She smiles.

She says "good morning, Lieutenant"

SLUT!

She wears that pretty little plastic smile, but behind it I can see the words

"He's mine not yours, mine not yours, mine not yours, mine not yours and etcera etcera, coz you're only his Lieutenant!"

Tramp!

Like hell, i don't care about Roy Pyro maniac, flame throwing psycho Mustang!

Yeah he's hot, but NEWSFLASH sir One Night Stand!

I'M HOTTER!

For Your Information Lt. Colonel, I can have as many suitors in line like you have!

If i weren't so frickin busy picking up after YOU, i would at least have a little resemblance of what might miraculously be a social life!!

Let me make this clear to you, dearest diary of mine:

ROY MUSTANG IS A CHEAP WOMAN MACINE

Look at his sleek black hair and captivating eyes! so totally FAKE!

It's only good for picking up "trash" off the street!

He can't even sign his paperwork without me having to hold him at gunpoint!

The only reason why I haven't shot him yet is because he's so...

so...

Incredibly cool, i guess.

and sweet.

and smart.

and funny.

and strong - willed.

and considerate.

and thoughtful.

But other than that, he's an ASS!

and he's cheap enough to screw that KVM garbage!

So to sum it up, I don't give a care about Roy what's-his-face Mustang or his whereabouts!

Even if he---

Good God, they're LEAVING?!

What the hell are they up to now?!

And look, that ass left his paperwork behind!

AGAIN!

When I find out what they're up to, I swear I'll SHOOT THEIR FRIGGIN' HEADS OFF!!

Gotta go.

From the ever loving,

Riza Hawkeye


	2. For My Sake

Yay! I love all my reviewers!

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**Chapter 2**

For My Sake

Dear Diary,

First off, Before I start my ranting again, let me fill you in on the time and where I am right now, as I right this:

Time: 7:05 PM

Location: In my car, outside the Colonel's house

I can't believe that that jerk left his paperwork behind to have coffee with that whore!

And now, i'm actually outside his house, in my car, waithing for him to get home!

And where the hell are they, anyway?

It's 7 o frickin clock!!

It's different, you see?

5:00 means okay

6:00 means fun

7:00 means I DONT NEED ANOTHER MUSTANG TO AIM MY GUN AT!

Sure, he was out of the office after office hours, (Once again, I had to stay LATE, having to clean up that jackbutt's mess)

But right now, it's 7:08 and that has GOT to be past any regular Colonel's curfew!

Right now, I actually feel a slight sense of regret for dubbing Kristina Von Manwhore a nickname as such. for now I have forgotten her actual name, and I cannot run a background check on her, hence spoiling my plan of ordering a military raid in her house at this moment.

I'm sure you're thinking about what I think you're thinking, but what I think you're thinking which is actually what you're thinking is definitely not what I'm thinking, mind you.

I mean...

If the Colonel gets a scratch on (or a bullet through) him because of these things, I WILL be answerable to that.

In situations such as these, he prone to harm.  
And if he DOES get harmed, who's paycheck will be affected?

Duh.

MINE.

As you can see, I am doing this for MY sake, not his.

I need to keep him in line to keep my reputation silver and minty.

Or something like that.

As I stated in my previous entry, I care not about the Colonel.

It's for ME.

Me, Me, ME, and no one else but me.

And besides--

Wait.

What is that noise?

----

GOD! That jerk is back!

and guess what?

Bitch McSlut is with him!

I SWEAR I'll kill that bastard of a Colonel for making me duck and hide underneath the driving wheel se he won't see me!

and look!

LOOK! LOOK! LOOK!

They're entering the house!

You see, this is what I loathe about that assqwipe!

How the hell does he expect me answer to the friggin higher ups if he gets his brains blown out?!

I mean, look at the time!

It's seven o freaking fifteen!

What the hell have they been doing, anyway?!

Now I gotta go and check out what those two are doing NOW.

sighs why must my life be so complicated?

Woe is me!

Now where'd my third gun go?

From the ever loving,

Riza Hawkeye

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Thanks for reading!

Criticism, Flamers, and Reviews are welcomed like a nice big slice of chocolate cake, just like the usual.

I drabbled this while my teacher was discussing the rock cycle. A bore fest.

And we have a quiz tomorrow. Screw that.

I made half of Chappy 3 during a seminar about something something in our school, I should be able to post it after a week.

And again, thanks SO MUCH for reading!

Kra-chan


	3. Amnesia

I _did _make half of the third chapter during that dental health care seminar that we had, (I didn't need to listen. My teeth are perfect, hence the metal fence around em) but I think I lost it or something because I was writing it at the back of that little brochure and a piece of paper I found in my pocket.

Welps, I'm just rewriting it now.

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**Chapter 3**

**Amnesia**

Dearest Diary:

Right now, I'm writing this in the kitchen with my breakfast juice and breakfast muffins by my side. It's exactly 0623 hours, and I have to get to the office at about 0800 hours and once again, slay that treacherous being which lurks the halls of central, sniffing for more sluts to screw.

Well, last night was all a blur. Or something close to that.

I was hiding in a bush, adjacent to the ass's window. They talked. drank cheap wine. And walked into the living room, away from my sight.

I honestly do not know if there is any other inaner way to waste your other than that. I mean, just by looking at them, I could feel Bitch McSlut's boredom vibrating towards me.

I would pity her if I didn't loathe her so much.

Well, I obvioulsy lost interest after a few minutes of staring at the Colonel's humanless kitchen through his crappy old window, so I drifted off to sleep.

I probably lost interest in that little scene in the Colonel's house, probably thinking that Kristina VonManwhore has finally realized that the flame throwing woman-parasite wasn't worth her time or her cool killing styles, so I just dumped that squirming organism with the possible murderer.

I'm surprised that I didn't fall asleep much sooner, considering the fact that the chief's little ploys in getting that tramp into his grubby grasp spelled **ENNUI** in big, bold letters.

That was all I remember, though. Because the next thing I remember, I was awake in my bed in my mud stained clothes (Thanks to that ASS) with my car parked outside.

So how did I get here?

I drove myself back and climbed into bed, beat up from all the dog watching of the night. I remember hitting my head on the bed post, which probably explains my memory loss.

I don't regret the memory loss, though, because even though I might have caught a glimpse of something else that happened after I woke up from my little nap on the bush, It probably wasn't worth my attention.

I just hate that little snake. It's because of _him _that the little bruise on my temple is still throbbing with pain.

At least today, I once again get the pleasure of threatening him at gunpoint. It's just too bad that the military rules say that I can't shoot him.

Well, no matter. That womanwhore isn't worth a single bullet of mine, anyway.

So now I have to finish off my breakfast to face yet another day with that little jerk in the office, blowing things up here and there because he can't get his candy ass.

Well, whatever.

Until any other further news which I choose to write in her, bye bye.

Riza Hawkeye

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I know this was a little crappy around the edges (or possibly smack dead in the middle), but this is completely drabbled and it's hard to concentrate on writing when you're eating yummy spicy tuna while American Idol is on (the computer and the TV in my house is side by side, separated by a little coffee table).

But it's like I always say: Reviews, Constructive Criticism and Flamers are accepted like a nice big slice of chocolate cake.


	4. Hot Pants

_A somewhat lengthy author's note:_

_Uhm, just so you guys know, this story really does have a plotline. I implied a part of it in Chappy 3, (on Roy's POV) but nobody found it yet. I think I buried it real deep coz even my psycho genius friends who read it (one stumbled across it on another confiscated it from me during class hours. She's a frickin officer) didn't mention it yet. Ouch. I needed their opinions on it..._

_Well, whatever anyway. Chappy 4 is written to back up Chapter 5, wherein I made the plotline very much explicit. I think._

_--------------------------------_

**Dearest Diary**

**Chapter 4**

**Hot Pants**

--------------------------

Dearest Diary,

I honestly curse whoever jackass invented hot pants. That very much inane person must have not taken into consideration the negatives that his respective invention could bring

Let me elucidate.

If that damned pervert hadn't invented such a thing, It would not be in stores right now.

If that thing had not been in stores right now, It would not have been bought.

If that damned brunette hadn't bought hot pants, she would not wear any.

If she had not worn any, she wouldn't look so amazingly captivating.

If she hadn't looked so amazingly captivation, Colonel SlutHungry wouldn't have spoken to her on his way to his car.

If Colonel Mustang hadn't spoken to her, I wouldn't have run to the window.

If I hadn't run to the windo, I wouldn't have craned my neck in order to see better.

If I hadn't craned my neck in order to see better, I wouldn't have lost my balance.

If I hadn't lost my balance, I wouldn't have fallen out the window.

If I hadn't fallen out the window, I wouldn't have landed right unto a pile of trash.

If I hadn't landed right unto a pile of trash, I wouldn't have smelled like shit.

If I hadn't smelled like shit, I wouldn't need to take a shower.

If I hadn't taken a shower, I wouldn't have slipped on my way out.

If I hadn't slipped on my way out, I wouldn't have broken my arm.

If I hadn't broken my arm, I would so totall be beating up that damned brunette with the Hot pants of utter evil and deciet!!

If you go waaaaaaaay back up there, when I started this entry, you will see that the lecherous inventor was the one who caused this dilemma.

I mean, such a THING so TRIVIAL and WORTHLESS has degraded me, reducing me to THIS!

I mean, I, 1st Lieuenant Riza Hawkeye, had been demoted because of a microscopic piece of...

Yeah, what is that thing made of?

Well, whatever anyway.

I'll just buy myself a pair of those shits and wear them tomorrow, on my day off.

I'll "bump" into the Colonel, and then prove to him that he, indeed, is a hormone - leaking pig.

If ever he were to somehow even hit on me, even with his knowledge of who I am, it would enough for me to shove his ass in hell each day.

He'll be moping over the ass he can't have.

Ha!

The perfect revenge!

Revenge for what, you say?

Duh!

The broken arm, the forehead bruise, for having to duck under the carwheel, for wasting a minimum of 3 bullets each day, and etc. etc.

Man, my ass can't wait to draw blood!

From the ever loving,

_Riza Hawkeye_

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_I wrote chappy 5 before I wrote this, but I needed back up so thus, a chappy 4 was born._


	5. The Public Women's Bathroom

_Heart Shaped, Chocolate coated, butterflies to all my reviewers! Crunchy!_

---------------------------------

**Dearest Diary**

**Chapter 5**

**The Public Women's Bathroom**

-----------------------

Dearest Diary,

I curse the psycho, flame throwing, slut - glutton, jackass for not even noticing my ass in these hot pants.

Of course, I have succeeded in giving 1st Lieutenant Jean Havoc along with Denny Brosh a somewhat massive nosebleed.

I have also accomplished giving Sergeant Kain Fuery a "scarlet blush", which, I am very positive, would have turned into yet another nosebleed if he had not fainted.

I have also recieved the impression that I might have converted Lieutenant Maria Ross into a lesbian.

But the incomrehensible situation that had occurred was when Colonel Asswipe only gave a mere "Good Morning, Lieutenant. i did not expect to find you in the Men's Clothing Department" wherein I had replied "it certainly looks different to see you out of your uniform, sir" emphasizing the outfit, to which he gave a mere nod.

As If I wasn't as good as that slut in the hot pants.

Speaking of sluts, I just found out that Colonel Mustang and Kristina von Manwhore are no more.

Ha! Like I wasn't expecting that.

And where did I find this yummy piece of beef? Well, where else than the women's bathroom at the mall, adjacent to the Men's Department.

I was inside the cubicle, spying on the future Mustang whores who were busily pampering their unfixable hideousness.

This is how their conversation went:

(In the typical slut tone of voice:)

"Have you heard? Roy-ie and that tramp from Sun Valley have finally, FINALLY broken up"

"It;a s good thing that Roy-ie finally saw the slut in her"

"Awesome! now I can finally go for him!"

"Don't sweat it, hun, he dumped her for some other woman"

"Really?"

"Word says that the other woman barged into his house"

"Barged? From what I've heard, she was spying on them"

"Gracie told me that she heard that the woman just went to visit Roy - ie and she saw that Kristina Tramp with him"

"Well, whatever anyway. Kristina went bullistic after she saw the other girl"

"Slutty to the extreme?"

"Yup"

"But Roy-ie still went for the other tramp, whoever she was"

"What happened then?"

"Kristina threw a hissy fit and stormed off"

"And the second whore did what?"

"I'm not sure but word says that they drove off somewhere"

"UGH!"

"Totally"

"I wish Roy-ie would date someone like me instead..."

and etc. etc. etc.

At this point, I left the cubicle and stormed out of the bathroom, knowing that whoever that 2nd tramp was, it was her fault why I never got my bloody revenge on Colonel Bastard.

Oh no, please don't get me wrong, I don't care about that Pyro Creep, I told you, it's REVENGE. Especially for damaging my pride. Ouch.

Nobody damages Riza Hawkeye's pride. My poor creation that I've nourished for so many years.

And I already have a good idea on who that 2nd tramp is. That slut in the hot pants! I mean, who else could it be? Man, am I ready to draw blood.

True, the public women's bathroom is indeed the prime source of all gossip. It is a meeting ground wherein female Homo Erectus of varying races and ages come together to trade, sell or recieve tasty strips of information.

I avoid this Hellish Lair as often as I possibly could, but I am fully aware of every soldier's unwritten law: "A throbbing bladder should go unignored"

Ya' See?

Aaaaaaanyway.

Lunch hour is almost over, meaning I only have 5 minutes of sweet liberty before I get sucked into the Mustang lair of hell.

Well, just so you know, I'll soon be ever so busy in trying to find ways on how I can slice of this 2nd Tramp's plastic - surgerized head.

Nobody. Touches. My. Pride.

I will indeed fill you in, but now I have to search for my third gun.

Some bullets will indeed be fired tonight.

From,

The sweet Riza Hawkeye

(Heart doodles with a bloody bullet peirced thorugh them)

------------------------------------------

_Yay! In my country, Summer started already! and finally, the March Periodical Examinations are over. Not like I really studied, anyway. I just kept playing Kingdom Hearts: Chain of Memories on my computer!! Play it, it's fun! So, back to the point, now that it's summer time, I will indeed be updating much, MUCH faster since I have nothing else better to do._

_--blowsakiss_


	6. The Black Spot amongst the White

_First of all, Soweee! If I didn't make it clear enough, for Chappy 5, the setting was the mall. Uh...I guess it just so happens that Riza ran into everyone from the office at the mall. I thought I made it apparent when I made Roy say "Men's clothing Department"... But thanks for pointing out that I didn't make my setting very clear! I'll try to improve on that... :D _

_Again, cookies, cake, and more cookies to all my reviewers!!_

_And for Chappy 6, The title is kinda rushed. Sorry. _

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**Dearest Diary**

**Chapter 6**

**The Black Spot amongst the White**

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Dearest Diary,

Right now, I am writing this on my bed, at home, at 2 in the freaking morning. For one, I'm too pissed and depressed to sleep.

I certainly do wallow over the fact that Colonel Roy Mustang is still, indeed, existing on this world. I curse not only his procrastination, but his irresponsibilty and thoughtlessness as well.

Let me explain further.

I, Riza Hawkeye, has become the office bitch.

I do not mean my responsibility, immense capability, and leadership ability, but rather, I am referring to the fact that when the rain pours like Jean Havoc's nosebleed the previous day or when the ground holds atop of it 4 inch deep snow or for any other matter pertaining to transportation problems, I am the only one in the office responsible enough to have a functioning, cigarette-butt free car.

My own car has been driven or rode at least twice by every person in the office.

Well, Colonel Crapbrain was irresponsible and thoughtless enough to leave a pair of his pyrotex gloves behind in my car.

I mean, who the hell does he think he is?! Well, I am aware of the fact that he is the youngest Lt. Colonel in the Amestrain government and is the legendary flame alchemist, but damn, is it jackatic of him to carelessly bump my car around and be thick faced enough to leave his gloves behind, thinking that I would just go out of my way and deliver them to him because he's a stupidass.

Well, hell no!

Not only with the Hot Pants incident has he shrunk my ego into a microscopic size, but he chooses to sadistically gnaw and piss on my beloved pride, since the last time I tolerated his setting foot in my car was 4 months ago, and that was only because the _both of us_ were late for a meeting and we were at an investigation area, 2 miles away from the Central Headquarters. For 4 freaking months, I have not noticed those two little shits crapping on my ever so divine car. For 4 freaking months, I, myself, was careless enough to not have seen it until today, even when I take such good care of my car.

I am a very observant person.

I always see anything out of the ordinary the moment it goes astray from its usual pattern.

And now, I have not noticed such a significant happening for four freaking months!

My Poor Pride...

What I don't understand, though, is why the gloves were on the driver's seat when there is no way in hell wherein I would allow that shithead to drive my car; God knows what he'd do with it.

Most probably it would burst to flames at any moment.

Well, I guess that's a part of his irresponsibility. He was probably reckless enough to have his pyrotex gloves lost a foot away from where he sat.

And what ever am I to do with these hideous things?

I'll probably just dear them to pieces and throw them out of my window. The Ass should have more than ten pairs, considering how he has ever so much money which he uses to go SlutShopping.

And again, speaking of sluts, I haven't seen that second whore (Hot Pants) around yet. Ha! I knew she was just a one - night stand!

Even though the Colonel was even more hideous she is, I didn't expect it to even materialize. Losers.

Well, now, since the second slut is out of my sight, she can screw herself for all I care.

And Colonel Mustang can burn himself, and I wouldn't give a damn. It would serve him right.

Oh wait, I think I WOULD give a damn. DAMN. It's about that right hand woman shit. Besides, I'm the one supposed to "protect" the reckless bastard.

Well, tomorrow, I'll just walk over to the Colonel and slam into his face exactly what a jackass he is. Ha! Like his ego would go so low as to even accept a scolding.

Bye for now!

Lovingly,

Riza Hawkeye

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_Eh... I'm not too confident about this chapter... _

_I didn't proofread it today and I'm too lazy to send it to one of my friends to have another opinion..._

_Welps, just so you know:_

_Constructive Criticism, Reviews, and Flamers will all be accepted like a big slice of chocolate cake!!_

_-blowsakiss_


	7. The Apology

_Sugar Rush to all of my reviewers!!_

_Sorry that this update took slower than usual, I thought I'd be free for summer but man have I been busy. I haven't touched the computer in almost a week now. A miracle. _

_Sorry about the content of chapter 6; It was rushed and written at dawn. _

_Welps, here's Chapter 7, anyway, which was a pain in the ass to write since I drabbled it in the car. Bumpy ride to the province to visit my Lola/Granny. _

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Dearest Diary

Chapter 7

The Apology

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Dearest Diary,

Colonel Roy Mustang's apology would now be a rather moot point at this juncture.

For some unfathomable reason, I would have preferred that he kept his little thingies to himself.

You see...

I find comfort in paperwork.

Reading, Writing, Filing, it keeps me occupied. It creates an atmosphere of complete serenity; a world free of Mustang.

The chief, earlier today, had approached my desk and dropped an insincere apology regarding my forehead bruise which I had gotten the night I tripped on my way to bed.After which, he had publicly announced that he had a couple of dates, yes, dates, with an "s" signifying that this time, he had a group of bishies to screw, and that he was to leave work early (as usual), leaving behind a stack of untouched paperwork (as always) which I would have to clean up, or else the big penalty would waltz itself and ravage my paycheck's value to it's very core.

Regarding this, I would have taken the shoot - the - Flamer approach If I weren't so stunned with his apology.

Why?

1.) That Megalomaniac has too much pride to actually admit that he had done something wrong

2.) He wouldn't dare open up his ego for public stomping

3.) Havoc was exactly 2.5 feet away from me, pressumably thinking of ways on how to hit on me. He'd be the worst eyewitness (or ear witness) existing for this crime.

4.) How the heck does he know about the bruise?! ( I've been covering it with foundation. That's how hot I am)

Indeed, the bruise was entirely his fault on why I had tripped but that...thing...he said...was just plain bothering.

With much love and gratitude to him, I have to redo all my paperwork; There should at least be one or two flaws. I was too bothered to concentrate. Curses.

I mean... He wouldn't bend so low as to even make eye contact with any of his inferiors!!

The most he could do would be to look down at the Fullmetal pipsqueak who happens to be (bleep) inches tall.

Well, back to that apology.

I am pretty much sure that 2nd Lieutenant Havoc had taken a kick out of that, since he was snickering all the while, which made me sweat all the more.

This was more awkward than realizing that he was hotter in the manga than in the series, It gave me the impression that somehow, he knew something that was out of my knowledge's reach. Impossible, of course but still.

Right now, As I write this, after giving myself a 5 minute break from the peace of mind intrusion, He is giving me that...odd look. Similar to what he gave Kristina Von Manwhore and those other sluts he screwed and then handed down to Mustang. It was either out of force or out of loserness. Yes, the pretty dolls prefer the richer ones.

Well, it can't be helped, can it?

There has to be a few losers in the world. Sadly, Havoc's one of them, trying to somehow grasp one of the luckier beings fluttering miles above him; Apparent in how he gapes at me. I'm not being too proud or anything but hey, The truth's the truth.

Anywho, My five minute break is almost up.

Paperwork time!

Much Love,

Riza Hawkeye

P.S. I seriously think that 2nd Lieutenant Maria Ross has become a lesbian.

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_I know about the OOCness by the way. I wrote with the intention of making it OOC. I get bored with staying in character, so I drabbled this a few weeks ago._

_And like I said, Flamers, Constructive Criticism, plain criticism and other reviews are always welcome!!_


	8. Odd Exchange

_I know I promised faster updates... forgive me... But not only have I been busy, I've been overcome by extreme sloth. I hope you understand._

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**Dearest Diary**

**Chapter 8**

Odd Exchange

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Dearest Diary:

I have heard the oddest exchange between Colonel Roy Mustang and 2nd Lieutenant Jean Havoc earlier today.

I did not eavesdrop, mind you. Their voices were as big as their egos; loud and uncontrollable. I indeed have more important things to do, rather than to sit around and listen to a couple of lazy bums being lazy bums.

The queer, no not gay queer, that case of theirs is apparent already. The queer conversation took place in the men's bathroom at HQ, wherein I had pressed my ear painfully hard on the cubicle door to hear better.

It started off like this:

Way back in Chapter 5, I had stated that a throbbing bladder should go unignored.

Well, due to some unfortunate circumstance, the women's bathroom by the office was unavailable for use. Believe me, you don't wanna know why.

And no, my dear, It's not as you think. I indeed have a schedule, but due to some even more unfortunate occurrence, my schedule was interrupted.

There had been an unnanounced check - up in the HQ, thus leading to a hustle.

The Fuhrer himself had inspected our progress; If it weren't for me, actually, Mustang's ass would have been fired. And this time, It wouldn't have been his doing.

The many bullets a day I waste just to keep him in line had been all for a day like this. And what does he do? He runs around, picking up trash from the street and screwing around with 'em without even minding the consequences since he himself has injected a substance right into the brain of Karma, blinding it, and instead hitting me for whatever disgraceful acts he has comitted. This usually comes in the form of a salary deduction.

At least my paycheck has not been harmed in any way yet; however, my venomous fangs still long to pierce delicious pyroslutglutton flesh, avenging the hardships I had to endure. All because of that undeserving little flamer.

Well, going back.

Answering to the Fuhrer's questions and thingamajiggys took a lot of time, hence ruining my very well thought out schedule.

For one, I was not able to take Black Hayate out for a walk, so the thing had no other choice but to piss on the wall, much to the Fuhrer's amusement.

I, not wanting to have the same fate as of that of Black Hayate, had no other refuge but the Men's bathroom.

It didn't matter, anyway. I could possibly pass for a man.

Ouch, I just insulted myself.

Well, whatever.

After the business transaction had been accomplished, I heard footsteps. Not wanting to be recognized (since I have my own bit of fame amongst the men. Yes, I am hot), I decided on staying put and shutting the hell up.

Odd as it may sound, The Colonel and Havoc had their own schedules interrupted as well, and now had to enter the bathroom at the same time, converting "wee time" into "we time". Adorable. Not neccessarily gayishly, but... yeah, somewhat gayishly.

And this would be the tiny bits of fragments that I have managed to pick up:

"Chief, ya' really gonna give me this woman?"

"C'mon Havoc, do it for me"

"For _you_?"

"Okay, then. For her"

"Chief, It's odd enough that you're giving me a woman, but t_his _woman?"

"Hey, you know what's weird? Calling her a woman"

"Dude, I'm serious"

"Havoc, I'm trying to repay the many women I've taken away from you"

"What you're doing is still for your advantage chief. Besides, HER?!"

"You don't have to be the one to do the dirt"

"What's in it for me?"

"C'mon, Havoc. You're the only huge womanizer I know"

"Besides you?"

"Besides me. Please?"

"I told you. What's in it for me?"

"If you don't do it, I'll demote you"

"I'll file a complaint"

"Then I'll incinerate you"

"I'll file another complaint. Big enough to get you demoted"

"Fine. A pay raise"

"How much are we talkin?"

"Well about..."

At that point, "Wee We Time" was over and they had left the vicinities.

Despite my quick wit and sharp logic, I didn't hear enough to piece it together, unfortunately.

But I'm pretty sure that that jackatic womanizer is overflowing with sluts that he needed some other place to dump em.

Tiring, Tiring. I always have to pick up after this jerk.

I pity myself.

Now I have to go reload my third gun.

Lotsa Love,

Riza Hawkeye

------------------------------------------

_In a span of 60 minutes, I have consumed 5 big buffalo wings, 2 plates of nachos, one big plate of pasta, 8 cans of coke and one whole box of pizza all by myself. _

_The previous 60 minutes, I consumed an entire cake._

_Forgive me. I had to write this while enduring can't-even-move-because-i'm-so-stuffedness_

_And pardon some words that don't make sense_

_------------_

_Please review. Flame, criticize, whatever, just review. It makes me happy. It doesn't take long, does it? Please? Pretty please? Before I barf on you?_


	9. Havoc and the incomprehensible

_I know I promised fast updates. I'm so sorry. SO BUSY. Little note regarding this is left at the bottom of my profile. Well I'm going to update AS FAST AS I CAN because my relatives are coming starting April 6 because of the fiesta in my Grandmother's province._

_--------------------------------------------------_

**Dearest Diary**

**Chapter 9**

**Havoc and the incomprehensible**

-----------------------------------------

Dearest Diary,

Havoc just hit on me.

My relationship with my other colleagues and subordinates has always been purely buisness. They slack off, I shoot them, they do their paperwork. Simple as that.

It's like an organized chain of events that go around; like a cycle.

For the many years that we have worked under Colonel Mustang, this cycle has never been broken once. Only a... strange... occurrence would interrupt it.

And there's another thing:

I do not take insults from anyone. EVER.

Who's bullet do you think shattered Tifa Strife's kneecap back when we were ten years old, when she insulted my clothes?

And earlier today, Colonel Flamer decided to light a little match and stick it up my ass by telling me in a somehow formal way: "Lieutenant, I suggest that to the ball next week, you wear your hair down as to not look like a homo dude".

Oh yeah, did I not mention that next week, all the military people are gonna gather and part 'till the break of ten 'o clock because of a military ball?

Anyway.

I got so pissed that right after I finished my paperwork, organized the files alphabetically and filed the Elric brother's reports, I stormed out of the office and went to the nearest bathroom in HQ, which happened to be the men's bathroom wherein oddly enough, I ran in to 2nd Lieutenant Jean Havoc...doing his business. Similar to how Black Hayate does his, strangely enough. I guess men of all species share at least one thing in common.

After a series of gunshots, yelling, squealing and tears, the latter done by Havoc, he thought that it would be appropriate to talk to me about the Colonel and his jackassness.

Of course, the topic of Roy Mustang would be oh so boring so let's just skip that.

Mooooooooooooving on...

He remarked that my hair looks beautiful (well of course), and questioned me about my schedule and inquired if sometime tomorrow night, he may purchase dinner for two and share it with me, eating it at the same venue.

Or he hit on me.

Whatever caused him to do so is beyond my comprehension.

Even so, I'm extremely interested in it.

Which is why I agreed.

Yes, yes, my chasing after Mustang has been a hell ride, but what harm would it do to go on a date?

Hey, come to think of it, it IS a date.

Oooooh.

Well, anyway.

It's not like I'm waiting for Mustang to court me. No, that would just be disgusting. Besides, I'm only running after him to keep my reputation nice and pretty.

I don't care about the fact that his eyes are so captivating...

or that he's considerate...

and trustworthy...

and loyal...

and his hair is so shimmery sparkly splendid...

Well, whatever. That jackass can screw himself for all I care. Wait, no, that's even better! this time, the possibility of having another demented Mustang/ a Mustang junior (God Forbid) to aim my gun at will be reduced to zero! Just as long as he doesn't tell me any details about it...eeeew...

So it's simple.

Tomorrow, Havoc picks me up from my house -- with me already out of my uniform as not to get several stares from people. And then, he takes me some place, and then, I interrogate him and later on kick his ass.

Simple as that.

But for now, All I have to worry about is how to explain to the chief where I have been for the past two and a half hours (which is just in the men's bathroom, writing on you, diary).

Welps, buh bye for now.

(Blows a kiss)

Riza Hawkeye.

----------------------

_I apologize for this chapter's content._

_I know this sounds weird...but...Lili I neeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeed you!!!_

_Review. Flame. Criticize. I will greatly appreciate it._


	10. Havocalicious

_See? I said FASTER, now, didn't I?_

-----------------------------------------

**Chapter 10**

**Havocalicious**

----------------------------------------

Dearest Diary,

Right now, I'm doing two things: Writing on you, and rubbing my poor, bruised and blistered feet.

It's like an unwritten rule of the Dating Game: All women must wear something suffocatingly tight and uber high heels, regardless of whatever circumstances, when on a date.

Since I'm only accustomed to wearing the loose military uniform and boots, that should have been a hellhole.

I guess it wasn't appropriate of me to order havoc to make the dinner snappy before I shoot his head off and bribe the Mustang into demoting him.

Yeaaaaaaaaaah...

Now that we've gotten to the topic of Mustang...

Here's how the conversation went: (Yes, my memory is excellent) Oh yeah, this occurred after dinner which was just a series of rambles about the chicken the hot waitress served and Havoc's date with her. Havoc offered to walk me home, which would make him a gentleman but it was one of his "chichis". His way home and my way home are on the same route.

"So, Lieutenant Hawkeye, who're you taking to the military ball?"

"The what?"

"The gathering thingamajiggy that everyone won't shut up about because it's the only time they can screw each other without getting punished"

"Oh. That. Black Hayate, I guess"

"Uh... Lieutenant, you're supposed to take a person._ Person_. Like... Let's see... Colonel Roy Mustang, perhaps?"

At that point I had to raise my eyebrow.

"Colonel Roy Mustang? He's probably taking a group of supermodels with him" I shrugged. "You know, the kind that goes "wheeeeeeeeeee, Oh Rooooooooyeeeee or something. Besides, Roy Mustang? Geez. I'd rather take someone disgustingly disgusting, like you. No offense"

(Havoc clutches his chest and stiffles a sob) "N-none taken, Lieutenant"

"Sooo... 2nd Lieutenant Jean Havoc, what's with this date?"

"Pardon me?"

"Why'd you ask me out? I mean, If regular street trash reject you before you could even ask them, what made you think that I'd even accept?"

Havoc shrugged. "Sober desperate people say yes to anything"

Click.

Sweatdrop.

"Ehhh..."

Seeing the sad look on his face, I pitied the poor worthless lifeform and put my gun away.

"Lieutenant Hawkeye," he began, leaning back, trying to look calm as if he still wasn't scared to death because he just evaded the wrath of the almighty yours truly.

"Ya see, For all these years, I haven't even seen a little piece of what might resemble a social life from you"

"I'm too busy"

"So? The Colonel's a Colonel, and he dates at least 3 women at the same time"

"That's because I do half of his job"

"Well, what about me? I get rejected by at least 3 women at the same time"

"I do half of yours, too"

"... Oh"

"Anything more, Lieutenant? Because this dress is suffocating me"

"Oh come on. It's old friends catching up. When was the last time we had a conversation like this? 5 years ago at the Ishbal war, when I we were both getting medical treatment?"

"Being in the military requires some sacrifices, Lieutenant"

"Ya' know, you're sacrificing WAY too much. More than the required, actually"

"Anything less than what I'm doing is what I call slacking off"

"So you're implying that I'm a bum? Along with the others?"

"Not really bums. Just losers"

"That makes me feel better, Lieutenant. Really" Havoc said, once again clutching his chest.

This guy is such a loser. Really. No wonder those garbagey women reject him. Although they aren't any better.

"What's your point?"

"About the military ball..." Havoc began

"You're asking ME out?"

Shocking.

"No, I have a date already"

"Oh..."

"I'm expecting to see you there. If not..."

"If not what? You do understand that you don't have anything against me since I revolve arond perfection, right?"

"Geez. Let me finish. If you're not there, I'll file a complaint against the Colonel. He'd get demoted, and your pay is likely to decrease"

"He'd incinerate you first. But before that, I'd put a bullet through each of your eyes and shove you in the hottest strip club in town, so you can hear the slut's squeals and not get to see any of the gold"

"Come on, Lieutenant Hawkeye. You wouldn't do that, now, would you?"

Click.

"Alright! Alright! Just get there, will you?"

"Why?"

He shrugged. "I dunno. I just think that you need a better social life. Or something that looks like one, at least"

"There's nothing there but hardcore military people and Mustang"

"Exactly"

"I'm not getting you, Havoc"

"Who else asked me to get you out on this date?"

Well, at this point, He shut my door.

And then I ran...or tried to walk... upstairs, kicked off the evil spawn of the dread forces otherwise known as the heels and tore off that dress, which I regret because now I have nothing to wear for the military ball and I just bought that because I didn't have anything for the date.

And then I left a message on Havoc's answering machine: "This evening neeeever haaappeeeeened"

Well, I guess I'd have to go that ball thing or I'd be harrassed (more than the usual) by everyone in the office, regardless of the fact that I'm on the verge of shoving my gun down their throats.

Well, whatever.

I have to get to HQ early tomorrow.

Good news: No paperwork which means I don't need to shoot mustang

Bad news: we're decorating the hall for the ball (hey, that rhymes!)

More Bad news: Mustang will be hitting on a lot of people

More Bad news: I'll be busy tomorrow night

More Bad news: I'm out of bullets

Well, the best thing I could do now would be to sleep. My feet are bust and damn I'm tired, mostly from the mental anguish from trying to recall every bit of info from my conversation with Havoc.

Hugs and Kisses,

Riza Hawkeye

(doodle of guns)

---------------------------------------------------------

_Damn. It's 1:30 AM. Why the hell are my neighbors eating pizza? I can smell it from here. ACK._

_Just so you know, this fic is still Royai. ROYAI. _

_All flavors of reviews will be greatly appreciated!!_


	11. Knock Knock

_Hey, you know what's weird, I threw in the "military ball" thing without giving it any thought. Then after a while, it hit me. I could do something with that!!_

_Seeeee? The chappies are coming fast, ne?_

-------------------------------

**Dearest Diary**

**Chappy 11**

**Knock Knock**

------------------------------

Dearest Diary,

Whoever thought of a thing such as the "military ball" should seriously be mentally incompetent.

It's too much of a hustle.

And last week, while cutting out paper flowers, I got four papercuts.

I mean, sure, I get hit by bullets all the time each time there's a war, but papercuts really sting. And that's the difference.

Besides, _paper flowers_ at a _military ball_?

That's like... I dunno, dying our military uniforms a vivid shade of pink.

I haven't spoken to 2nd Lieutenant Jean Havoc ever since that... uh... 'date'. That excludes the normal office stuff. The yelling, the shooting, more yelling, and more shooting.

Well, actually, this time it was just pistol whipping his head.

And all these cutting and gluing stuff sucks because I don't even have any plans of even _going _to the idiotic gathering wherein militants can release their schizophrenic selves and allow their psychotic hormone - leaking counterparts to take over and get wasted. Or something of that sort.

Yeah, I'm actually writing this in the office.

That ass, Mustang, left work early to 'pick something up'.

Geez, I wonder how many freaking dates he's bringing.

And I can't believe those sluts are actually going crazy over some flame throwing psycho who's only interests are burning things up and hot asses.

So now I'm the only one in the office, finishing off Mustang's unfinished paperwork and redoing his finished paperwork which is bound to have at least a hundred errors.

Fine. I'll look at the bright side of things.

This time, he didn't have as many errors. Only eight mistakes. Now let's see how the second sentence turns out...

(sighs)

Everyone else is too hyper getting fit and ready for the ball; either looking for last - minute dates or psyching themselves up by saying to themselves that going alone means that you're single and ready to mingle, which is just a sad excuse for saying "I'm open because I'm so unsexy, I haven't been purhcased yet"

Yes, yes, Havoc DID tell me that "he was expecting to see me there" and that crap, but he's inferior to me by one rank therefore I have everyright to treat him like a dog. He pisses like one, anyway.

So now I'm here, sulking. Because everyone else is out there, having some inane fun while I'm cleaning up after the messes that they left behind because I cannot let my paycheck get harmed.

Besides, I don't care about that stupid ball anyway.

With all the dancing, and talking, and really good music...

No, I don't care about it at all.

Yes, they have alcohol placed in many fancy drinks but Ha! I came prepared too! I have my stock of...

a box of juice and an apple.

Hey, better this than nothing.

I've had worse meals. In Ishbal, our food ratios were cut into such tiny pieces, they've practically become microscopic.

This is enough to power me up for all this paperwork I have to do. YAY!!

Because I, 1st Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye, REFUSES to go to some ball and get screwed by some unknown stranger.

And no, I'm not gonna change my mind.

And now on to the paperwork.

-----

What's that noise?

Oh. Someone's knocking.

Geez! What could have happened? A paper flower fell off and they need someone to glue it in for them because their freshly manicured nails can't be touched?

For Heaven's sake!

I swear I'll shoot the head off of whoever's knocking.

Love,

Riza Hawkeye

---------------------------------

_I have one more chappy before the "finale" or whatever_

_And the knock on the door is where the Royai starts getting explicit._

_Gueeess who's knocking! And Gueeess whyyyy!!_

_So REVIEW!!!_


	12. The Men's shoes

_Anon. Review Reply - Review #70: _

_No, Denise, Roy doesn't come knocking, and that has been written out in my outline way back last February._

_-----------------------------------_

_Another trivial plot for this chappy. I hope you can see the royai already. I didn't leave out any of the early chappies for this chappy._

------------------------------

**Chapter 12**

**Dearest Diary**

**The men's shoes**

-------------------------------

Dearest Diary,

Where did we drop off?

Oh... right... the knocking twenty minutes ago.

Man.

It's pretty much horrible enough that I have to spend the entire night moping alone, with only the paperwork to confide in, while the rest of the staff in HQ are "getting their freaks on" or stuffing themselves up with food weighing half of their body weight.

For some reason, that being Havoc, I'm actually thinking of what it would be like if I were one of those inferior average people who spend too much time doing their hair just to get ready for some gathering wherein you know you're too hard - ass to ever get laid.

And for some reason that happens to be beyond my comprehension, the Colonel just seems to enjoy shoving the the rusty blade further and further through my heart.

Chest.

I SAID CHEST!!

Or bladder.

Either will do.

I didn't mean heart.

I swear!!

I meant chest or something!!

(And I'm not using erasable ink)

Oooooookay.

Putting that aside...

The loud knocking that broke the peace between me and my paperwork had apparently been caused by a delivery man, delivering something of completely useless to the current situation in HQ, or anywhere else for that matter.

Actually, I don't know what it is but the label said "Col. Roy Mustang" so I'm assuming it's not of any particular value.

That's pretty much why I just threw it on his desk.

Well, that and the fact that I loathe his bloody guts.

Mooooooving on...

Knowing the Colonel and his recklessness, my number one priority is to keep him in line in order to keep my reputation pretty.

Seeing the package on his desk, all wrapped up in brown paper and a nice white string, I had the odd feeling that it had to be something destructive.

Something that will damage his reputation, Central's reputation, and most importantly, my reputation.

So I couldn't help myself but creep over to his desk and open the package.

Sure, sure, you might call it invasion of privacy or whatever, but this is what I call "protection" so... uh... yeah.

Aaaaaanyway...

The thing that I happened to find from the Colonel's package... was... well...

Kind of hard to describe...

My shoes.

A nice pair of black running shoes. Men's running shoes.

My. Shoes. Were. Delivered. To. The. Colonel.

And hey, you guessed it, I DON'T KNOW WHY THE HECK WHY!!!!

I mean... The last time I've seen those shoes was when...

Let's see...

Right. The bastard was dating Kristina Von Manwhore and he took her back to his place so to protect my paycheck, I had to follow.

And then on my way back to my room I think I hit my head on the bed post and so I lost all my memories between falling asleep on the bush and hitting my head.

No, I am not reckless.

I just had taken a reasonable amount of alcohol (The Colonel's window was open. Nice wine was sitting on the counter by the window. I was lonely and sober. Do the math) and to top it off, I was dead sleepy since it was probably sometime at dawn.

And as to how my shoes got mailed to the Colonel, I have no idea.

Ooooh, wait, I'm forgetting something!

After my loud screaming and ranting, Havoc dropped by to check_ if everything was okay._

If you haven't noticed yet, I am not happy.

Anyway...

**"WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!" came the shriek.**

**"Geez, Lieutenant, for someone so calm and collected, you're making one helluva ruckus"**

**"Eh... Havoc... shouldn't you be getting ready for your date?"**

**"Oh, she's outside. I heard a scream so I came to check on you"**

**"... oh.."**

**"Oh? they just delivered the shoes? man, those mail people suck. I sent them to the Colonel how many months ago!"**

**"Excuse me?"**

**"Oh, they're his shoes"**

**_"Excuse me_?"**

**"... Well... I was assuming that they were his shoes because I found them in your car, and since I was busy and was ordered to leave for the Eastern Headquarters for a week, I ordered my mom to mail it to the Colonel for me before I left. Uh... was that so bad?"**

**"..."**

**"Lieutenant?"**

**"How the hell did I leave my shoes in my car?"**

**"... Uhm...Am I supposed to answer that?"**

**"No. Shut up"**

**"Yes ma'm"**

And I thought that date was the last I'd ever see of Havoc.

Well, anyway, I got him all bloodied up so he'd probably be keeping a reasonable distance from me for the next couple of weeks.

And now I've made up my mind.

I'll stop slacking off for now and do my paperwork! Yeehee!

And then I'll go to the shooting range later to take it all out.

Lotsa Love,

Riza Hawkeye

(lips doodle)

------------------------------

It was too quiet at the office. All she could hear was the scratching of the tip of the pen against the paper, and it reminded her of how much of a social loser she was.

She lived off the surface of her thoughts, but deep in the corners of her mind lurked the most unthinkable...

"Lieutenant"

"S-sir?!"

"You're working on your paperwork?"

"W-well... I had to catch up...uh, sir"

"Again with the formality?"

"It's only proper for a subordinate to adress his superior with respect"

"You certainly didn't seem to think so on paper"

"S-sir?! Have you been reading m-my--"

"Oh, shut up. You leave it lying around all the time!"

"I keep it locked in my drawer"

"Well, is it my fault that I can pick a lock?"

"S-sir, may I ask, why are you here? I'm sure your dates are waiting for you"

"Oh, I have none"

"Really?"

"Wow. It's that hard to believe?! Well, how 'bout you? Don't YOU have anyone to screw?"

"Sir, this setting doesn't look very festive, now, does it?"

"So you won't be going to the ball?"

"No. I have to finish the paperwork"

"You'll miss the dancing"

"I don't really care"

"Well, I can't make you miss _that_"

"S-sir?"

At this point, he had grabbed her waist and held her close.

Close enough for her to taste his breath.

"Would you like to dance, Lieutenant?"

------------------------------

_I'm sorry that this kinda sucked, but I'm feeling all angsty after watching 12 episodes of Gakuen Alice and I haven't updated in quite a while now, so... uh, yeah._

_Sorry. The end bit that wasn't a part of the diary entry was supposed to be short but... you can see that it didn't turn out that way._

_Please leave a review._


	13. Unfinished Trash

_Help!! I can't upload new documents! and I can't go to support. fanfiction. net!_

_I can't be happy if can't find any way to upload 'em!_

----------------------------

**Dearest Diary**

**Chapter 13**

**Unfinished Trash**

----------------------------

Dearest...uh...Diary... I guess...

Well, anyway,

It's like this: Throwing away a nice good book without an ending would be like, buying a woman fifty bucks worth of flowers because you're a loser in love and still not get laid.

It's a waste of time and a waste of money on your part and even after that, you get a black eye.

Well, that's what Havoc was ranting on and on about, anyway.

So that's why I just filled out this page even though I was tasked to throw it out.

Yes, I was tasked.

I've become her slave after that day.

During the afternoon of the military ball... well, let's just say that the Lieutenant does dance quite gracefully, even though it was only in the office.

Although afterwards, she pistolwhipped me (out of bullets, remember?) because I "broke into her house".

It's pretty much amazing how it takes someone like her to figure that out. And I thought it was figured out. Just when I thought the bitch level was going down, it just turns out that she didn't know about me breaking into her house because she fell asleep on my bush.

Kristina Von Manwhore then got incredibly slutty, just telling me to leave the "dirty blonde" in the bush.

That was totally torture. I had to think of nice, dead, rats with lotsa flies on 'em to shake off the horniness.

_(A/N: And to think that I go to an exclusive school run by nuns)_

So, anyway, basically after she pieced it together...the shoes...the gloves in the car...the bruise... there was a considerable amount of blood.

Mostly because she called me clumsy or dropping her and giving her that bruise when I was doing her a favor by bringing her to bed.

Yikes. But you should see how she stormed into the room wherein the military ball was held and kicked the hell out of Havoc's ass after she figured out that I sold her out to him.

Havoc thought of the dates, at first, which was evil. But you know his logic.

Havoc equals to Horny and alone equals to evil

And then the explanations come, which I pointed out was boring, and then there was more blood.

But that's another thing with women.

No matter how much of Riza Hawkeye they have in their system, they're still women, and they like being regarded as special because it flatters them.

Hawkeye had her face rubbed against the pavement which other militants pissed on, but she still likes to be told that she looks pretty after she gets up.

That's what I learned from Alice, my first actual love who I met when we were on a school trip and we passed by the college she went to. I was in the sixth grade then, but she still thought I was 18.

As you see, it's a gift.

So... here's the math:

Empty office + triggerhappy and really pissed maniac + gun (I didn't know it didn't have any bullets) + me equals to: God forbid...

The words "Because I knew I couldn't have you, and I wanted to really know it so I could move on" seemed to have triggered something else.

Why do you think I'm here, outside, by the big garbage can, throwing out her trash while she's in the shower? (this is how I discovered you, uh... dearest diary)

Yes, it's morning time.

No, I did not get laid. But I got her couch. Aaaaaaah the couch smelled so much like her.

So what am I gonna do now?

Go buy fifty bucks worth of flowers, because that's what losers in love do.

Signed by,

Roy Mustang

P.S. Since you're going to the trash, Chances are Riza'll not find out about this last entry. Good enough, I've shed enough blood.

**OWARI**

---------------------------------

_Done! Finally!_

_And the unfinished trash referred to the diary, which was finished by mustang. It's stupid, I know. I'm sorry._

_And I'm so sorry about the grammatical errors throughout the thing._


End file.
